With Friends Like These
by Niente Zero
Summary: Macon Lacroix met only one man who understood his choices: Benton Fraser, the man who sent him to prison. Now Lacroix is out, and determined to protect Fraser from a revenge plot, no matter the cost or who gets hurt. Warning: Violent themes.
1. Save

**Disclaimer - Don't own it, not making money off it.**

_"It became necessary to destroy the town to save it."_ -Anonymous US officer, Ben Tre, Viet Nam.

**Chapter 1 - Save**

It was a quiet whine from Diefenbaker that roused Benton Fraser from his sleep on the floor of his office at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Fraser's eyes opened and in the half-light that always shone through from the restless city, he saw a figure looming over him with a gun in his hand. Fraser reached out to touch Diefenbaker's ruff, stilling the spooked animal. The figure was familiar. Fraser's stomach tightened. He had helped to imprison many men and women and if one had come seeking revenge, he would be unsurprised. If this one in particular had come, it was just Fraser's bad luck, because few other men had been able to outsmart him, outmaneuver him up until the end.

"Macon Lacroix." he said quietly. Dief was tensed ready to spring under his hand, but Fraser didn't want the wolf to be hurt. He knew that Lacroix would do a lot to avoid hurting Diefenbaker, unless he had to.

"Constable Benton Fraser. Still sleeping indoors, I see." Lacroix looked around the room. "This may be smaller than my cell was." He gave a dry chuckle that didn't sound very amused.

"Are you here to kill me?" Fraser asked, point blank.

Lacroix crouched down, putting himself closer to the level of the man on the floor. It was true that he was armed, but he wasn't exuding any level of menace or hostility, Fraser thought.

Again, Lacroix chuckled dryly. "No. If I wanted to do that, you and your wolf would already be dead."

Fraser tilted his head to one side. "That's true." he said. "Why are you here?"

"Can I put the gun away, or will you do something foolish?" Lacroix asked.

Fraser nodded warily. He pulled himself into a sitting position. The whole scene was all too familiar to him, but that Lacroix hadn't tried to incapacitate Diefenbaker this time spoke of motives that might be different.

"I don't wish to harm you." Lacroix said. "In fact, I should thank you. You saw a man who thought he was brave, but who was running and hiding. You showed me a mirror." He chuckled dark and low again. "I won't thank you for the time I spent in prison. You must know it was hell. But I did have time to read and learn, and I did form some new perspectives."

Fraser nodded acknowledgement. "I'm glad to hear it." he said. He was still disturbed and puzzled by the man's forcible entry into the Consulate to interrupt his sleep.

"May I ask why you're here?" Fraser asked.

"I learned some things in prison that had nothing to do with books or reading." Lacroix said. "Some things that pertain to you. I might not want to kill you, but that doesn't mean that others do not."

That wasn't exactly news to Fraser, and he was sure it didn't warrant breaking and entering. "Is that all?" he asked, his tone growing curt. He didn't like having his small home invaded. It was one thing to have Lacroix walk in to his old apartment. Anyone could. But the Consulate had modern alarms and locks on the doors and windows. It was a cage, yes, but it should have been a safe cage.

"If that was all, I'd be out in the wild, not here." Lacroix said, a shrug of disgust at the confinement of the city rippling across his wide shoulders. "They let me out on early release, at least in part thanks to you speaking up at the sentencing."

Fraser nodded. When all was said and done, Macon Lacroix had not managed to kill or seriously harm anyone at the trade summit, and Fraser had voluntarily spoken about the man's record of military service for his country and troubled history since returning as a veteran, unwanted now by the country he'd been through hell for. It had done a lot to reduce his sentence.

"They let me take a job doing menial environmental monitoring tasks in a state park. I need to be there in two days or I'll be back inside." Lacroix concluded.

"Then you have something important to tell me." Fraser said. It was hard talking to Lacroix. The man had his own rhythms of unfolding what he had to say that required patience. Diefenbaker was vibrating under Fraser's hand, too. The wolf had no love for the man who had drugged him.

"Have you heard the saying, 'If you sow the wind, you will reap the whirlwind, Constable?" Lacroix asked.

More riddles.

"I've heard it." Fraser said. Patience.

"Would you say you had sown the wind?"

Fraser shrugged. "I suppose, in some contexts, it could be said."

Lacroix chuckled again. "You've stood toe to toe with gangsters, with terrorists, corrupt officials, but you don't see it, do you?"

"I must confess, I'm getting tired of this." Fraser said sharply. "If you have something to tell me, tell me."

"The whirlwind is coming." Lacroix said. "I know, because it was assumed that I would want revenge on you. The Donnellys. The Chinese mob. MacFadden. People with money, people with connections on the outside. They've got killers working for them. If you stay here, they will come for your friends, then they will come for you. I came to take you away."

Fraser's eyes widened in alarm. "The police-" he said, moving to stand and reach for the phone.

Lacroix stood too. "I sent Detective Vecchio, who incidentally looks surprisingly little like himself, a message. Your friends will know to be on guard. If you come with me, then the men who were sent after them should move to hunt us instead. The men in prison won't want to lose track of you." He smiled wryly. "Or, after tonight, me."

The hairs on the back of Fraser's neck were standing up. He didn't trust Lacroix. There was something definitely off about his warning. But if what the man said were true, then the two of them together stood a better chance out in the open against almost any collection of hired guns. Indecision showed on his face, a tiny line of worry creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

Lacroix moved fast, his right hook catching Fraser squarely on the side of his jaw. Diefenbaker sprung, but Lacroix was ready for that too, swinging his arm out hard to meet the wolf mid leap. His swing threw Diefenbaker backward, landing awkwardly on the floor. "Sorry, boy." Lacroix said, following up with a swift kick to the head that stunned the wolf.

Lacroix continued to work with haste. First he pulled a syringe from his pocket and rolled up the sleeve of Fraser's red pajamas to inject the contents of the syringe into the muscle of his arm. Then he bound Fraser's hands and ankles efficiently but with a gentle touch, not tight enough to endanger the Mountie's circulation or even cause him great discomfort. He hoisted the tall man over his shoulder in an effortless fireman's lift. Prison had given him plenty of opportunities to work on his weight lifting.

"You wouldn't believe me," Lacroix said to the unconscious wolf. "But this is for his own good. And I can't carry both of you." Before he left, he dropped an envelope on Fraser's desk.

--

Ray Kowalski woke up running late, which was not unusual. He was racing around the kitchen fixing coffee when he noticed an envelope that had been slipped under his door. The handwriting on it was familiar. It was simply addressed to "Ray."

He bent down and picked up the envelope, ripping it open to read the note inside.

"Ray,

Attached is a list of names of men who I have been informed are seeking to harm me and those close to me. All the men on the list are in prison, however, they are all men with the resources to hire contract killers. I have absented myself from Chicago in the hopes of leading any such threat away from you, Inspector Thatcher, and anyone else that they might consider a target. I will contact you should I have further information.

I remain,

Yours faithfully,

Benton Fraser"

Ray stared at the note for a long time. It was definitely his friend's handwriting, and he could practically hear his friend's "This is official and very serious" tone, but the contents were startling to say the least. Benton Fraser wouldn't cut and run if his friends were being threatened. He just wouldn't. And not with a note like that. Ray scratched his head. It made no sense.

The second page was a very short list, but the few names on it were quite impressive.

--

Something tickled Fraser's nose, and he sneezed. Then he became aware that he was lying on the ground, which felt freezing through his pajamas, in a small clearing beneath some tall conifers, that his hands were bound, and that he had a roaring headache. The conversation with Lacroix came back to him.

He heard Lacroix moving beside him. There was a fire, and he turned his head and saw that Lacroix was boiling water for tea in a can over it. There were loose tea leaves in a plastic bag at Lacroix's feet.

"Is this a game?" Fraser asked. It was a pointless question. If Lacroix had kidnapped him because he desired some sort of slow, twisted revenge, then he would hardly admit to it now, not when he had spent so much time building up his story the night before.

"I'm afraid you'll find it's deadly serious. I'm sorry about the ropes, but I made a decision when I was in prison that I would protect you from this conspiracy, and I intend to do so whether you like it or not."

"Why?" Fraser said. His throat was dry, and he longed for some of the tea that Lacroix was brewing.

"I told you. You changed my perspective. I can still love the land and try to protect it without hiding in it, without allowing it to twist me into acts of anger and violence against those who threaten it."

"It sounds like you found more than my words."

Lacroix chuckled. "I might have heard some other words in prison to set me straight. But what I needed most was someone who was like me, who knew why I was doing what I was doing, to shake me out of it. The rage. After I came back and they were taking my home away. You understood me and showed me that there was another way."

Lacroix stood and swung the can full of tea around in a circle at his side, over his shoulder and past his knee three times, fast enough that the surface tension kept the tea from spilling out of the can.

"I learned that from the Australians over there. The diggers, they called themselves. They could brew a good cup of tea. Fought well too. Not much fear. They say it settles the tea leaves to the bottom of the can."

Fraser noted that Lacroix seemed to have become more forthcoming since his prison conversion, if that indeed was what had happened to change him.

Lacroix poured the tea into two enameled tin cups.

"Sit up." he said.

Fraser wriggled himself into an uncomfortable sitting position. He dared hope that Lacroix might untie his hands, but instead the big man held the tea cup up to his lips.

Fraser was grateful for the hot, strong tea. The ground was cold and he ached.

"What did you drug me with?" he asked between sips.

"Sorry." Lacroix said. "DPT. It's a cocktail of sedatives. You might still feel woozy for a while. Drink your tea."

He helped Fraser drink the rest of the tea in silence.

--

Ray Kowalski arrived at the Consulate to find Fraser's superior officer, Inspector Thatcher, in a towering rage.

"Perhaps you know the meaning of this, Detective!" she snapped, thrusting a letter under his nose.

Ray took it and pulled out his glasses. That was more or less a delaying tactic while he absorbed Thatcher's shimmering state of anger and the obvious absence of Fraser.

"Inspector Thatcher,

As of this morning I am exercising my right to take leave due to me. I am currently due three weeks' leave and will return at the end of them.

Respectfully,

Constable Benton Fraser"

There it was. Ray stared at the note. Again, the handwriting was perfect, the inflection very Fraser, and the contents entirely improbable. Ray pulled his own crushed envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Inspector Thatcher.

"I think Fraser's in trouble." he said.

Diefenbaker emerged from Fraser's office, tail drooping between his legs. Ray dropped down to greet the half-wolf.

"Hey there, boy. Where's Fraser?" Ray asked.

Diefenbaker hunched down and whined.

--

"It doesn't make sense." Fraser said. The time for sharing a cup of tea had passed, and Lacroix had also given him bread to eat. Since then, the big man had been prowling the edges of the clearing, setting up traps and venturing out down small paths as if to check every possible approach to the camp. Now he was back, sitting quiet and still, unnervingly so, across from Fraser. Fraser had had plenty of time to think.

"All of the men that you mentioned have reason to hate me." he admitted. "But they are all self-serving, and not likely to take actions that are extravagant and not to their advantage. A conspiracy of revenge..."

Lacroix stood abruptly, moving forward and looming over Fraser.

"Prison does strange things to a man's mind." he said sharply. "You don't have to understand it for it to be the truth."

Fraser steeled himself and looked up into the man's eyes. "You truly believe that all of these men are using every resource at their disposal to exact personal vengeance against me." he said. It was a deeply improbable scenario.

"I do." Lacroix said shortly.

Fraser's heart sank. Looking into Lacroix's wild eyes, he believed he knew the truth now. Prison did strange things to a man's mind. Lacroix might not mean him harm, but he had been half-crazed from post traumatic stress, shell shock, when Fraser had helped apprehend him. Now, Fraser feared that Lacroix was living entirely in a world of his own twisted imagining.

Lacroix was paranoid and delusional, believing his own terrifying fantasies. For all Fraser knew, Lacroix might never have met the men who he claimed were conspiring against Fraser. He might have spent his time in prison reading newspaper clippings about Fraser and gathered his ideas from there.

There might not be hired killers on Fraser's track, but that didn't mean he wasn't in peril; he had no way of knowing what mad idea Lacroix would harbor next, no way of knowing when he might become the threat that Lacroix saw as needing to be eliminated.

Fraser tested the ropes that bound his wrists once more. The knots, while not overly tight, were secure. Over time the rope would naturally slacken, maybe enough that he could twist his hand out, but he didn't know if he had time.

--

"This list of bad guys." Ray said, pacing by his desk, on the phone with Inspector Thatcher. Diefenbaker lay at the foot of the desk looking disconsolate. "I got good news and bad news."

"The good news?" Thatcher asked.

"All of them were in prison together, so yeah, there could be a hookup, but none of them is going to be ordering any killings."

"Why not?" Thatcher inquired sharply.

"All dead. Recently. Accidents. That may not have been accidents but nothing that anyone could prove if you know what I mean."

"What's the bad news?" Thatcher sounded wary.

"If these guys are supposed to be the ones gunning for Fraser, and they're dead, then who is?"

It was a mishmash of a sentence but Thatcher took the point.

"And if the person who got Fraser has anything to do with all of them turning up dead-" Ray added, "Well, that's pretty much the opposite of good."


	2. Destroy

**Disclaimer - Don't own it, not making money off it.**

**Chapter 2 - Destroy**

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Fraser asked. "If the men arrive, I won't be able to help defend our position." He had decided that the safest course was to play along with Lacroix's folly for the present.

"Don't worry, Constable." Lacroix said, pulling out a large hunting knife. "I can take care of them."

"I think it would be better if we could take watches. You must be getting tired." Fraser spoke softly and persuasively.

"I have your word that you won't try to leave?" Lacroix said, watching Fraser's face carefully. "When I was in prison and the men would talk, the ones you put away, the things they wanted to do to you, I swore to myself that when I got out I'd protect you."

Fraser's spirits sank even lower. If he gave his word, he'd have to keep it. He believed Lacroix, that the men who he'd helped to get arrested and convicted probably had talked among themselves about their grudges and boasted of sadistic revenges. That was to be expected.

But now it was twisted into this situation where Lacroix felt that he owed Fraser for a new start in life, and believed that in order to keep Fraser from harm he had to keep him captive.

If Fraser gave his word, he couldn't walk away. If he didn't give it, he might stand a better chance of getting out of the ropes somehow and then escaping, but Macon Lacroix would know that Fraser didn't believe him, and might take more drastic action.

Fraser knew that crazy or not, Lacroix had the advantage over him. Lacroix knew the territory, and he wasn't groggy. If Fraser tried to escape, Lacroix would hunt him down and probably drug him again, which would be worse than being tied up.

"You have my word." Fraser finally said.

--

"Handwriting analysis came back." Detective Jack Huey dropped a file on Ray's desk. "It's not Fraser's, but it's very good. You get any further on who might be behind this?"

"Well, what with all the bad guys on that list getting offed, the pickings are slim." Ray said. He slouched in his seat. "There was one more guy in that prison that Fraser sent down. But he just got out on early release. Good behavior. Model prisoner, parole board says he's totally rehabilitated, he has gainful employment lined up. Fraser even spoke up for him at his sentencing, got him off pretty lightly, then he only served half of that." He made a disgusted snort. "I dunno why we bother locking them up."

"What was he in for?" Huey asked.

"Ah, got out of hand at a big deal trade summit." Ray said, waving his hand vaguely. "I guess he was some kind of green nut."

Huey's eyes widened. "You don't mean Macon Lacroix?" he said. "He wasn't just some kind of environmental whacko. He was a commando."

At the name, Diefenbaker sat up and started barking loudly.

Ray stiffened. "Great. Just peachy. But what does he want with making it look like Fraser took off on his own?"

"Don't know." Huey said. "But is there anything that might show us where he's taken Fraser?"

"He's supposed to report in to this job in Sand Ridge State Forest, collecting numbers of grass species or something." Ray said. "Does that sound like the kind of place he'd go to ground?"

Huey nodded. "From what I heard when they apprehended him, he'd been living rough in the woods. Even Fraser had a hard time tracking him."

"That's just wonderful." Ray said. "Well, let's get cracking. Dief, we're going to need you on this one."

--

Fraser rubbed his wrists. Even with an effort at kindness, being bound left uncomfortable rope burns. He leaned down and untied the rope between his ankles.

"Thank you." he said. "I can take watch if you want."

"Plenty of time for that." Lacroix said. "There are some clothes in that bag there." He nodded to indicate a green duffle. "Stretch your legs. Help yourself to some food. Just don't wander too far." He gave a low chuckle again. "I put down a few distractions for anyone who might try to get to us."

Fraser gratefully pulled out jeans, a thick flannel shirt, and hiking socks and put them on over his pajamas. On top of the after-effects of the heavy sedation, the chill was becoming very uncomfortable. He noted that there were no boots and frowned, but decided not to raise the issue. Lacroix was apparently unwilling to make it easy for him to break his word. The hiking socks were adequate to protect his feet around the camp site, but that was all.

The duffel bag also contained jerky, more bread, and canned goods. Fraser shrugged and took some jerky. It was better than starving, but not as good as pemmican. He strolled in as casual a fashion as he could muster to the perimeter of the camp.

What he saw in the leaf mould of the forest understory worried him. Although any explosive traps that Lacroix had laid were well hidden, he caught the glint of caltrops strewn around. Those would be an irritant to anyone in hiking boots, but to him, they were as good as a fence. The moment he stepped on one with stockinged feet, he'd be done running. There was no mistaking that this was a prison. He kept strolling, acting as if there was nothing to concern him.

After stretching his legs, Fraser sat back down by the dwindling remains of the fire. He felt frustrated. His only hope was to talk Lacroix out of his crazy position, and he had to be careful. Lacroix was not stupid, and Fraser knew he couldn't push things too much in the direction of challenging Lacroix's belief in a conspiracy without causing the man to become suspicious of him. He decided to try questioning Lacroix, trying to get him to elaborate on what was supposedly happening.

"Tell me about the men who are behind this." Fraser said. "You said the Donnellys are involved. Did you have much to do with them in prison?"

Lacroix stared into the distance. "I should have taken care of them." he said. "I should have put them out of the way." Then he grasped his head as if it was hurting badly, both hands pressing against his temples. The irrational fury in his eyes startled Fraser, who unconsciously leaned back. "I thought I did. Maybe I did take care of them." Lacroix's voice was chilling. Then he seemed to snap back to what was passing for normal. "I don't think we have to worry about the Donnellys." he said quite calmly. "I took care of them. It's the others."

Animal panic reared in Fraser's mind for a moment. He was sure he knew what Lacroix meant. He'd killed the Donnellys, but he'd compartmentalized that in his confused thinking, refusing to face that he'd done it. Fraser felt a cold certainty that if he pressed and asked after the other men that Lacroix had said were threatening Fraser, they would arrive at the same answer. But that could be the most dangerous thing he could do, to break through Lacroix's delusion with that kind of realization.

Lacroix had probably killed them all. The thought made Fraser feel sick to the stomach and he stood up suddenly and turned away, unwilling to let the unbalanced man see the disgust on his face.

He heard Lacroix's step behind him and before he could react, felt Lacroix's arm around his throat, tight, a choke hold. Fraser reached up to pull it back, get some air through, but the grip was too strong. Lacroix's breath was hot in his ear.

"You're upset. Understand, I had to do it." he said. His tone was oddly cold. "Your problem, Constable, is that you can't follow through. You can't do what has to be done. I had to kill them or they would have come after you. Sooner or later they would have come."

Fraser wheezed for breath through the unyielding hold on his neck. "Macon." he said, the word coming out in a harsh whisper. "Macon, no. Remember, you said you don't need the anger any more. Let the anger go."

His vision began to tunnel as the big man's arm remained crushed against his windpipe, and then suddenly the pressure was gone. He staggered, and Lacroix very gently, very carefully helped him to the ground.

Lacroix was crouched beside him blinking. "I'm sorry, Constable." he said. "I don't know, I'm not sure what happened."

"It's all right." Fraser smiled, although it was a faint facsimile of the real thing and his voice was still hoarse.

"They'll be coming soon." Macon said. "I'll build up the fire and make more tea, but then we need to be ready. They could come any time."

He strode off to fetch water from a creek that lay outside the perimeter of the camp.

Fraser sat with his knees pulled to his chest, feeling the breath come back into his aching lungs, swallowing occasionally and rubbing his throat. He was sure that Lacroix was having dissociative episodes - that the man who seemed more gentle and relaxed, who believed that he was protecting Fraser against a conspiracy of living men, had no idea of what he had done, what the raging, chilling person that still lay underneath had already done to protect Fraser.

Lacroix returned up the hill from the creek, quiet and sure footed. Instead of relighting the fire for tea, he doused the embers with the water from the can.

"They're coming." he said sharply. "And sooner than I thought."

Fraser closed his eyes and listened carefully. At the very edge of his hearing range he heard people moving quickly through the wooded area. Not enemies, friends. He heard Diefenbaker, running forward and then back to the slower men, trying to lead them. He had to warn them, he couldn't let them walk into Lacroix's traps.

"There, you see, Constable?" Lacroix said. "Just because I seem paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get us."

--

Ray tried to dissuade Inspector Thatcher from coming to search for Fraser, but with no luck. The park area they would be searching was well outside of the Chicago PD's jurisdiction and she had just as much right to be there co-operating with the local police as he did.

As they moved through the sandy trails under the cover of pine trees, Thatcher said, "Be careful. The last time this suspect was pursued, he had booby traps set up. Watch where you step."

She hadn't been there, of course, but she'd heard Fraser's report. And then Fraser had risked his life protecting the officials at the summit and ultimately saving Lacroix's life. Knowing what she did of Lacroix she couldn't help but be afraid for her subordinate. Lacroix was by far one of the most dangerous men he'd brought in.

Diefenbaker moved forward confidently. He could smell Fraser and the man who had taken him. His only frustration was that the humans moved so slowly! They should hurry! Fraser smelled, well, wrong. He was in danger.

--

"Macon." Fraser pleaded. "Those aren't my enemies. They aren't people who want to hurt us. Those are my friends."

He watched as Lacroix checked that his rifle was loaded and took a position behind a tree, facing the direction the sound of movement was drifting from.

"Don't try to confuse me. Your partner isn't even the same man. They said it was Detective Vecchio but I saw him. It's not the same man. He's not your friend." Lacroix sounded wild and distant again.

Fraser moved quietly toward him. He'd been avoiding direct physical confrontation, knowing that the other man could best him, but he would not stand by and watch his friends picked off. A man just released from prison shouldn't have been able to get a gun like that, nevermind the sedatives and explosives. Lacroix was obviously as dangerous and resourceful as ever.

"Not a step closer, Constable." Lacroix said. "I don't want to have to hurt you. Please."

"Put the gun down, then." Fraser said. "Just set it down." He stepped closer. He was in reach now, could reach out and grapple with Lacroix. He had to stop him in time to warn the search party about the traps.

Lacroix turned to face Fraser, lifting the rifle up and swinging it down like a club toward his head. Fraser put his hands up to block it and they wrestled. Fraser managed to wrench the rifle free and throw it across the camp site, but then Lacroix had his arms in a bear hug around Fraser.

"Constable Fraser, don't fight me. I'm trying to protect you." Lacroix said urgently.

"I don't." Fraser struggled, "Need. Protecting." He tried to bring his arms up and break the other man's grip. They were face to face and he could see that the angry and violent side of Lacroix that he'd carefully taught himself to repress in prison was once again rising to the surface. He felt Lacroix squeezing him, then Lacroix turned and slammed him backwards into the trunk of the pine tree that he'd been using for cover. Stunned, Fraser went limp in Lacroix's arms. Lacroix hauled him bodily over to where the ropes lay beside the duffle bag.

"I don't have time for this." Lacroix said shortly. He pinned Fraser with a knee to the back, and grabbed his wrists with one broad hand. Fraser, shaking off the blow from the tree trunk, bucked his hips, twisting sideways, trying to dislodge Lacroix from his back. He could hear the searchers getting closer and he had to stop them.

Lacroix was off balance, and Fraser threw his whole body into maintaining the momentum to reverse their position on the ground. He couldn't hold Lacroix for long, but if he could keep him from getting the rifle, if he could yell a warning, it would be long enough. They rolled and Lacroix ended up on his back. He got one hand up to push against Fraser's face, digging his fingers in and squeezing. He, too, twisted and turned as Fraser tried to keep him down. Lacroix's superior weight soon flipped Fraser over again. He found himself with Lacroix's hand around his throat. Memories of being choked earlier rose up, and he fought off panic. He had to stay cool, but his heart was beating wildly, all his instincts telling him to fight back or die.

"Constable Fraser." Lacroix growled. "I don't want to hurt you. Stay still." He pulled back the hand that wasn't currently choking Fraser and delivered a staggering blow to his face, knocking the back of his head against the ground.

--

Diefenbaker had a bone or two to pick with Lacroix. As he crested the hill and saw Fraser lying still on the ground a couple of hundred yards away, the wolf sprang forward.

"Dief, wait." Ray yelled, but the wolf chose to remain deaf to his plea. Ray pulled out his gun and followed the wolf, stepping where he had stepped. He hoped the wolf was good at avoiding home made land mines.

Lacroix raised the rifle to fire at the wolf that was barreling toward him, but something stopped him. What was he doing? He wasn't here to kill Fraser's beautiful canine companion. He faltered. Fraser was right, these weren't their enemies. Then he saw Ray. The counterfeit Vecchio. The man who was not who he said he was. Lacroix's resolve hardened again.

Fraser groaned. His vision was blurry but he heard Ray's yell. He rolled to his side and saw that Lacroix was about to shoot Diefenbaker, and then presumably Ray. Fraser stumbled to his feet and threw himself forward, rushing Lacroix as the gun went off. The shot flew far wide of the wolf, who bolted across the camp site to join his master in subduing Lacroix.

Without Diefenbaker to guide him, Ray picked his way slowly over the ground. The other searchers were even further back. He reached the camp site to find Diefenbaker with his teeth firmly wrapped around Lacroix's arm, and an extremely unsteady looking Fraser holding the rifle pointed at the ground.

Ray put his arm around Fraser's shoulder and took the gun from his hand. He emptied the cartridges from it and set it on the ground.

"Fraser, buddy, you all right?" he said.

"Ray, I think he killed - he killed them all - to protect me." Fraser said, the disgust and shock at his discovery setting in now that he wasn't fighting for his friends' life.

"I know, we figured that out. It's not your fault." Ray said. Fraser was leaning against him heavily, which was unusual to say the least. Ray wasn't sure what worried him most, the bruises around Fraser's throat, or the thousand yard stare on his face, his friend's gaze focussed on some unseen distant point of horror.

Thatcher and the local police appeared at the foot of the hill.

"Stay there." Fraser yelled, but it came out as more of a croak, so Ray repeated it for him.

"The hill is covered in traps. I didn't think you'd make it safely." Fraser said.

"Dief showed me the way." Ray said. "Come on, we'll get you down."

"Lacroix." Fraser said.

"Dief's got him under control." Ray swept a contemptuous glance across Lacroix. Fraser looked as if he was about to protest, then shrugged slightly, feeling too stunned and tired to argue.

As they picked their way carefully down toward the rest of the team, Ray checking the ground with his boot for caltrops before each step, Fraser heard a noise behind them. He and Ray turned to look. Lacroix broke free of Diefenbaker's grip and ran to one side of the camp site. Fraser's eyes widened. He began to run back up the hill, but Ray grabbed his arm. He pulled Fraser's head around forcibly, not letting him watch as Lacroix stepped quite deliberately on one of his own improvised explosives. The ground shook with the blast. Fraser let out a breath that ended with a soft moan.

"Come on." Ray said. "It's not your fault. Come on."

Diefenbaker ran down the hill to join them, pressing close to Fraser's side as they walked.

"Tell him it's not his fault." Ray said to Thatcher, who held her hand to her mouth in shock. She moved her gaze from the hill where the explosion had come from to her ethereally pale subordinate.

"Constable!" she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. "You are not responsible for this man's actions. Do you understand me?"

Fraser nodded, but his eyes showed her that he remained unconvinced.

--

"The death records will all be updated to reflect that they weren't accidents, but with Lacroix dead too, it's all pretty much a moot point." Ray said. It had been a month since Lacroix had kidnapped Fraser, and the only thing remotely useful that had come out of it was that the truth about the murders Lacroix had committed in prison had been brought to light. Fraser sat in a chair in front of Ray's desk, listening as Ray explained the latest developments. His responses were monosyllabic.

Ray stood up and walked around to put his hand on Fraser's shoulder.

"You gotta understand, you didn't make him do anything." he said. "The man was unhinged. He just got fixated on you."

"I just wish I'd seen it, or that I could have stopped it somehow." Fraser said. "I knew that he was not entirely... mentally whole. But..."

"But you couldn't know that he'd do what he did." Ray insisted. "And just because he said it was to protect you doesn't mean a thing. It was all his choice, Fraser. It was all him." He'd said that often enough, but he'd keep saying it until it sank in to the Mountie's thick head. "Come on, buddy. You gotta let this one go."

Fraser looked up at his friend. He hated being the cause of that worry and sadness in the detective's eyes. He really hated the way Inspector Thatcher was suddenly treating him as if he were made out of blown glass. She hadn't snapped at him once in a whole month, although she often looked as if she were biting her tongue. Ray was right, he had to let go and let things get back to normal.

"What do you say, we go grab something to eat?" Ray said.

Fraser got to his feet, a sketch of a smile on his face. "I'd like that."

Normal? Not yet, but it was a start.

**Author's Note: Dark even for me. Let me know what you thought.**


End file.
